LOSING IT ALL //HAYLEY PARKER

11

~LOSING IT ALL~

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11| REAL FRIENDS
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A WARM SPLITTING RAY OF yellow sunlight that cuts through my bedroom window onto my face wakes me up from my fitful sleep the next morning.

Groaning tetchily, I raise my right hand to my face to block it. "Seriously?" I chide, twisting my head away, and squinting from temporary blindness.

A vague sense of nagging unease plagues through me as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, though it takes me a moment to remember why, and when the event at the beach comes flooding back, a resurgence of anxiety and depression surge through me against my ordering.

"Fuck me." I curse morbidly, traipsing forlornly into the bathroom, and nearly tumbling over a basket of laundry. "You need to get those into the washing machine, lazy arse!" I self deprecate before stripping off, and jumping into a warm spray.

While I slip into a comfy t-shirt and baggy jeans, I anxiously listen to the audibly sounds of Camille and Jennifer preparing breakfast, and Newt playing Johinnie Ray on his record player. I did not hear Jayden or Dale's voice downstairs.

Gathering up my dirty laundry with a fleeting courage, I unlocked my door and venture gingerly downstairs.

Camille is frying sizzling eggs on the stove. She is animatedly spilling a ribaldry gossip to Jennifer, wooden spatula waving at midair in illustration.

Jennifer is giving a quick douse to a withering pot of flower by the cabinet. She's laughing, a dry rasping cackle that sounds as though it is influenced by years of smoking, with her huge bosom quivering, and the fluff of her jet curls bouncing.

Newt is perching on the island, looking intrigued as he listens silently to the shared tales. Why do they all look so happy? I quip inwardly, intensively watching them.

Camille is the first to notice me. She sees me and pauses amidst her demonstration as if she has seen a ghost. Face blanching, and jaw dropping. Before the rest notices her sudden change in countenance, I'm scuttling nonchalantly over to the washing machine and dryer that sits behind the kitchen.

"H-Hayley." Jennifer gasps, taken aback by my silent appearance with a hand on her chest. "I didn't even hear you come in."

I ignore her and dump my dirty laundry into the washing machine filled with hot sudsy water. Switching the machine on, a whirring, churning sound indistinctly fills the kitchen.

"Hayley." Camille calls.

I shut my eyes briefly before wheeling on the balls of my feet to face them. "Yes?" I say crisply, pausing my lips in a guise of innocence.

Newt is up from on top the Formica-topped island, his slippers scraping against the dark floorboards as he breezes towards me.

"What happened yesterday." His grey eyes widens inquisitively. "You flashed past me, I nearly got an heart attack."

"Newt!" Jennifer tuts plaintively, dragging him away from me. I swallow hard to ease the sudden tightness in my throat. They won't relent until I tell them everything. Where's Jayden to narrate the cause of my outburst. He should have told them. Why do I always have to be the explaining agent for our every tiff?

The toaster dings and two slices of bread pops up, all evenly brown and crisp. My tummy growls in hunger. I missed lunch and dinner yesterday, just great!

Camille is fast to catch on, she tentatively takes my hand, and drags me over to the island. "Sit, let me fix breakfast for you." She says warmly.

I don't hesitate. Besides, I'm famished and tired. While I settle into a stool with Newt hovering over me evidently waiting for an explanation, Camille slips scrambled eggs into a plate and belatedly turn off the burner on under the frying pan.

"Are you feeling okay?" Jennifer asks wearily, slouching steaming coffee into Disney twin cups.

"I don't know." I return dully, biting nervously on my bottom lip. Just as Camille settles the plate of eggs and toast before me, the entrance door flings open and both Dale and Jayden burst in.

They are both in track gears. They look flushed, with their hairs disheveled from the wind. For some reason, they both pause by the doorway when they see me. My anxiety intensifies, but I'm curious by their actions.

"You both are just on time." Jennifer steps in with her soft smile, dispelling the strangely awkward tension, and filling the atmosphere with warmth.

I ignore meeting Jayden's gaze, but when Dale ambles over and settles on the stool in front of me, I can't help squirming in my stool.

"I'll go up and shower. I stink." Jayden excuses himself and disappears up the stairs. Jennifer takes the stool beside Dale, and quickly busies herself in asking him about the weather and all.

"You're going to ignore me all day?" Newt probes impatiently, slumping into a stool beside me. I groan and shoot him a disapproving glance. "Sorry for scaring the shit out of yesterday, but surprisingly, you're doing just fine and without an heart attack."

Dale cackles at my remark, low and rough, and it compels me to shift my gaze to him. "What's funny?" I ask, surprised.

"You are." He simply says, piercing dark mahogany eyes peering at me amusingly. Camille sets a plate in front of him, and he mutters a low "thank you" and wolf down his breakfast.

Enthralled by his sudden civility, I watch a wee more before attacking my own plate. Newt and Jennifer joins in soon after, and then Camille. For the next few minutes, we sit talking like a group. Strangely, Dale enthusiastically butts in, gisting retrospectively, and laughing at Newt's puckish humor.

I forget about Jayden. I forget about our tiff. I forget about how angry and frustrated I have been, I sit with them, listening, smiling and nodding in agreement. One of the specs of having real friends, they never make you feel alone.

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